


Bloom

by Yamnus



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Growing Up, fem!iwazumi, major plot changes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 06:03:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6411886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yamnus/pseuds/Yamnus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing has ever felt more right than spiking a ball that he has set. </p><p>But, as a girl, Hajime can never been his ace.  She will never be allowed to stand on the court with him. His toss will never belong to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> Begins spring of Oikawa and Iwaizumi's third year at Kitagawa Daiichi.

“Kageyama,” she says, hair covering her eyes, “I’m sorry, but we’re done for the day.”

The color is blooming.

“Iwai–“ Kageyama begins.

She turns to face him, placing a hand upon his shoulder. “I’m okay.” Her smile is soft and reassuring. “Oikawa-kun on the other hand,” she states, turning back around, “might not be."

Kageyama nods before sprinting out of the gym.

“Sorry.” Oikawa’s expression of utter disbelief is still fixed upon Hajime’s cheek. He’s knocked out of his daze only when a fist collides with his nose.

“Apology not accepted. The change up today was to cool your head!” Hajime screams, “You need to have some more composure.”

Oikawa, holding his nose, looks at her, frustration overflowing. “Right now I can’t win against Shiratorizawa! There’s no way I can have composure. I want to win and go to nationals!” He shouts in her face, the red dripping down his wrist and onto the gym floor. “To win I need to–“

“Shut up!” Hajime answers, punching at Oikawa only to have him dodge her shot. “It’s not just you! Do you think you’re fighting by yourself?” She swings her other arm only to have him catch it in his palm, covering her fist in his blood. “Let me go, you dumbass!”

Haijime feels the callouses on his hand. “There are six players on a volleyball court!” Tears are burning as they fall down her cheek, past the brilliant red and deep purple bleeding into her skin. Her throat is sore from yelling and, burdened with the emotions spilling forth, her voice breaks. “Even if your opponent is some first year genius or Ushiwaka, the team with the better six is stronger, you dumbass!” Hajime pulls her hand forcefully from Oikawa’s grip. She cries as she hits his chest half-heartedly, unable to meet the eyes sitting above his dark circles.

“The team with the better six is stronger.” His voice as soft as he echoes her. The words hit the crown of her head. Eyes downcast, even past her blurred vision she can see Oikawa straining to stand past the exhaustion in his legs. A sudden burst of laughter causes her to freeze. Her head snaps upwards only to be met with a smile so brilliantly blinding it scares her.

“Did I hit you too hard?” Hajime asks, genuinely concerned until he presses his forehead against hers. The damp sweat feels disgustingly uncomfortable.

“I suddenly feel invincible,” is the response she receives, answered in a hush. She scoffs as his fingers, rough with practice, gently wipe the tears from her bruised cheek.

\--

Hajime waits after practice ends the next day, listening to the coach as he walks by. “Whatever it was, Oikawa seems to have gotten over it.” Her relief takes the form of a sigh, tension falling from her shoulders. She allows her head to rest against the wall.

“Iwaizumi-senpai,” Kageyama greets as he exits the locker room.

“Hey, Kageyama,” Hajime answers, lazily turning to face him, smiling comfortably, “You did good today.”

“You always come to practice.”

“Someone has to babysit Oikawa,” she says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The first-year’s eyes trace the motion as her fingers skirt around the edges of a deep purple bruise.

Kageyama lowers his head, staring at his shoelaces. “About yesterday, I’m sorry, I just– Is your cheek okay?” he asks, pulling at his jacket zipper. He stiffens at the touch of her hand upon his shoulder. The first-year hesitantly looks back up, blue eyes iridescent in the moonlight that floods the hallway. The tips of his ears burn.

“Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fau–“

Hajime and Kageyama both jump with the sound of the door slamming open. The brilliant hue of Kageyama’s eyes is dulled by the fluorescent lighting of the locker room spilling forth from the outline of Oikawa’s frame. Hajime catches a glimpse of the flush adorning Kageyama’s face. “Iwa-chan, let’s–” Oikawa stops mid-sentence as the door slowly swings shut, leaving the hallway dark once more.

“Oh, it’s you.”

Hajime furiously blinks the spots out of her vision, the sound of Oikawa's footsteps echoing around her. Feeling the way Kageyama flinches, she reassuringly tightens her hold on his shoulder. The image of Oikawa’s back snaps into sharp focus as he deliberately steps in front of Hajime, knocking her arm to the side. Kageyama stumbles backwards. The third-year tilts his chin upwards in derision, eyes narrowed. "Go home, Tobio-chan.” 

Hajime rolls her eyes, slapping Oikawa’s back right where the name of their school is printed. “Stop picking fights with the first years.” With two of her fingers, she flicks Oikawa’s ear for good measure and steps around him. “Kageyama, ignore him. Look at me.”

Kageyama is adamant in his refusal to raise his head again. His eyes peer up at Hajime from behind his hair. Oikawa casually slides his arm around her shoulders, absently rubbing at the reddening spot on his ear with his free hand. Kageyama immediately averts his gaze before excusing himself, hastily making his way down the hall, half-running.

Hajime shoves her elbow backwards. “Get off.” Oikawa doubles over.

“Iwa-chan! Was my nose not enough for you?” he hisses, still half hunched-in on himself.

The vein in her forehead throbs. “What about my face, Shittykawa?”

He shrugs, struggling to stand upright. “Well, none of the boys will be looking at you anyway.”

The moment Hajime rolls up her sleeves, Oikawa turns to sprint for the door. The corners of his mouth turn upwards as she races to catch up with him. The fallen cherry blossom petals flutter as they run across them. He’s overflowing with the familiar comfort of blood rushing through his veins, the ache of his chest as oxygen floods intro his lungs. Once in the courtyard, Oikawa, smile alight, chances a look over his shoulder. He narrowly dodges the bag Hajime throws at him only to unceremoniously trip over his bike.

Oikawa coughs from his seat on the floor, enveloped in a cloud of dirt. He sees the silhouette of Hajime’s arm reaching towards him. “Wait, Iwa-chan. Mercy, please!” he pleads, clenching his eyes shut tightly, expecting a fist that never comes.

Instead he feels thin fingers on his ankle, and opens one eye slowly. Oikawa is met with imploring green eyes, and his expression softens. “Your ankle looks fine. Is your knee okay?” He nods, struggling to catch his breath. “Your hands?” He holds them up, both to show he’s okay and to surrender. The panic falls from Hajime’s face and thaws into a tired resignation.

“Idiot, watch where you’re going,” she says, moving to stand, brushing off her uniform. Oikawa opens his mouth to reply only to stop at the sight of fresh blood on Hajime’s knees as she walks over to her backpack, haphazardly tossed on the floor. Oikawa pushes the sight away and swallows his words, unlocking his bike and throwing his own bag into the front basket.

Hajime makes her way back, eyebrow raised in a half-question at Oikawa’s uncharacteristic silence. A thought seems to cross her mind as her eyes widen. “Oh, before I forget. This is yours. Someone left it in your notebook.” Hajime fishes out a pink envelope from inside her bag. She passes it to him.

“Confessing your love for me?” Oikawa jokes, leaning forward on the handlebars as if to accept the letter before switching the bike light on. Hajime squints, immediately blinded. Even so, she can hear the smugness of his smile. “Oh, Iwa-chan. I’m sorry but I belong to all my fans.”

Hajime delivers a single, solid kick to his shin. Oikawa turns the handlebars, twisting in pain. While the light is directed elsewhere, she climbs onto the back of his bike, and forcefully shoves the letter into his jacket pocket. “No give backs.”

Oikawa leans back, resting part of his weight on Hajime. “The burden of my popularity is too much.”

“You’re such a piece of trash.”

“Don’t be jealous.”

“I can’t wait until my bike is fixed,” Hajime mumbles, loosely wrapping her arms around his waist as they exit the school gates. The bumpy dirt path gives way to the smoothly paved main street, devoid of cars in the late evening hours.

“Oh, Iwa-chan, hold me tighter.”

“…That’s it. I’m getting off.”

“No, no!” Oikawa grabs her before she can let go, holding onto both her wrists with one hand, “A lady should never go home alone after dark. Oikawa-san will send you home because he is a gentleman.”

“We literally live next door to each other.” Hajime scoffs, eyeing the approaching downhill slope.

Oikawa turns back to pout at her. “Then just let me bike you home from now on.” The bike swerves dangerously.

“Eyes on the road, dumbass!” The slope is getting closer.

“Iwa-channnnn~” Hajime feels the bike beginning to tilt. Her knuckles are turning white as her grip intensifies.

“Ok, fine, whatever. Just let me go before you kill both of us.” Oikawa instantly relinquishes his hold on her wrists with a satisfied grin. Hajime immediately tangles her fingers together in the fabric of her friend’s team jacket, as they finally fall over the edge. “You don’t need any extra strain on your body.” The rush of the wind tears the comment away from her as they head further down. The crumpled outline of the confession letter digs into Hajime’s forearm, and it presses into Oikawa’s torso uncomfortably as she squeezes. “Tight enough for you?”

Oikawa pedals faster in retaliation. “Iwa-chan, you must really love me,” he wheezes , slightly breathless from the force Hajime is using. The streetlights glitter in his eyes as Hajime places her chin on his shoulder. Oikawa sees Hajime’s hair flutter past in his peripheral vision, feels her breath on his jawline.

“You wish.” She whispers straight into the shell of his ear and buries her smirk in Oikawa’s shoulder as he flinches away. Bits of broken glass in the asphalt glimmer in the light as they bike home. They weave through the quiet neighborhood where houses are stitched against the backdrop of the nighttime sky.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa gasps in awe, pedaling off-rhythm as he catches sight of a falling star. He lifts a hand off to point excitedly at it. As it fades from view he peers down at Hajime’s face. She’s stunned by the constellations reflected in Oikawa’s eyes, the moonlight highlighting the bridge of his nose as they move towards a horizon littered with stars. Hajime feels something stir in her chest. “What did you wish for?”

“My dashing good looks? My perfect grades? My heart? Iwa-chan, you know you can’t wish for someone to fall in love with you.” Hajime decides to ignore the feeling.

“I don’t want anything from you.” She digs the sole of her shoe into Oikawa’s calf.

He winces in pain, “Rude! I’m just trying to help you decide from my many redeeming qualities.”

Hajime pushes her elbow against his ribcage. “Go die, Shittykawa.”

“You can’t wish for that either! There are rules!”

“Then I’ll just have to kill you myself.”

Oikawa looks absolutely scandalized. “But, Iwa-chan! You can’t wish people back to life. How will you survive without my charming personal–Ow! Iwa-chan! I was kidding! Ow!”

Oikawa insists that wishes must be secrets in order for them to come true. Hajime thinks it’s cruel. A lie spoken aloud can take root and grow into a brilliant truth. Why must a wish spoken aloud be condemned to wither? Hajime has always kept her wishes locked away from the sunlight they need to bloom. Her chest is filled with unanswered prayers, letters she’s written but never sent. Hajime diligently carries every wish, each one a whispered plea for the little boy who mapped out every inch of the sky, the boy who became Hajime’s Sun, her center of gravity, her star. Hajime has always been trapped in his orbit.

\--

Hajime never tells Oikawa why her bike was broken.

Oikawa is a prince. The court is his kingdom, and he’s fighting a two front-war. The enemy in front of him keeps him up until the early hours of the morning. The threat of his crown being snatched from behind him keeps him at school until late at night. Oikawa constantly fights the exhaustion of being captain of the second-best team in the prefecture. The worry consumes him and the pressure constantly weighs down upon him.

That’s why Hajime never tells him how the girls in their grade broke the tires and bent the metal frame of her bike.

Oikawa is a prince. Every girl swoons over his every word and flirtatious smile. Hajime is their worst fear. The enemy in front of them keeps Hajime up until the early hours of the morning when she washes the stains out of her uniform jacket. The threat of his hand being snatched from their reach keeps Hajime at school until late at night, cleaning off the comments written on her desk. Hajime constantly fights the exhaustion of being Oikawa’s closest friend.

Girls hate Hajime.

Hajime never learns how to braid her hair or write confession letters. Words have never been Hajime’s weapon of choice. Hajime never learns the passive version of aggression. Instead, Hajime learns how to throw a punch and how to spike a volleyball. Hajime fights her enemies head-on rather than attacking them behind their backs. Hajime wears the bruises on her knees proudly and hides the ones on her heart. Volleyball leaves battle scars, but the girls leave open wounds. Poisonous curses and rumors bleed through the bandages to infect the cuts Hajime can never seem to recover from.

Hajime really wants to hate Oikawa for everything. The way she has to diligently check for tacks every time she puts her shoes on. The way she has to erase the board in Oikawa’s classroom before he can read what’s written. The way he works so hard to the point that he hurts himself. The way desperation clings onto him. The way he shoulders his team’s losses alone. The way Oikawa fights his enemies on his own, on the frontlines of a war he cannot win alone.

Oikawa is a commander, a conductor. He is the heart of a powerful army. So when he injured himself last fall, he broke more than just his knee. He shattered his team’s chance at victory. The pain ran deeper than any cut, and he pushed the knife further into himself, guilty for a crime he did not commit.

Hajime wants to hate him for the way he blames himself. The way she has to pull out the knife Oikawa punishes himself with. The way she would rather break her own happiness than allow him to break his. The way she can do nothing but watch him crumble before her.

Hajime wants to hate him for the way he hurts her when she watches him break. The way she dedicates herself to making sure Oikawa never hurts himself again. The way she has to piece him together as he shatters under the title of second best. Hajime wants to hate Oikawa.

But she can’t.

Not when Hajime sees Oikawa tear up the threats that are slipped in between the pages of her books. Not when Hajime sees Oikawa placing his notebooks on her bedroom desk so she can study from them. Not when he texts her later saying he forgot them and that she could return them tomorrow. Not when Hajime sees the obnoxious drawings that pop up on every page telling her not to give up.

She can’t hate him. Not when she sees Oikawa half-asleep on her bed after midterms, guard completely lowered. Not when she sees Oikawa, hair a mess and glasses on. Not when she sees him grab her comb so he can braid her hair. Not when she sees the Oikawa who used to catch fireflies with her. Not when she sees the boy first handed her a volleyball and taught her how to play.

Hajime can’t hate Oikawa. Not when she remembers that autumn when he injured his knee. She had spent one final night, lying awake with her uniform on. When morning broke, she quit her team, eyes bloodshot and cradled by dark circles. Hajime, when confronted by a furious Oikawa that afternoon, could not find it in herself to regret her decision. Not when he dragged her to the gym. Not when he threw his crutches on the ground. Not when Oikawa set the ball in a way that has always left Hajime breathless.

Nothing has ever felt more right than spiking a ball that he has set.

But, as a girl, Hajime can never be his ace. She will never be allowed to stand on the court with him. His toss will never belong to her.

\--

She lets the ball drop.

“Game over.”

“What kind of game is it when nobody wins?” Oikawa is livid, limping over to Hajime through the pain.

Hajime does not allow Oikawa to fall. She catches him. “You better win next time then,” she says, face twisted with agony, staring up at Oikawa.

Hajime has always been his knight.

Oikawa’s lip trembles. Gravity has always been his greatest enemy. Oikawa does not have wings. The shadows cast from above hide the Sun’s light from him. Oikawa lives on the ground, surrounded by feathers. No matter how high he jumps, he will always land back on the ground. No matter how long he keeps the ball in the air, it always comes down.

As a prisoner of gravity, Oikawa cannot fly. No matter how hard he struggles to stand up, the weight of Hajime’s sacrifice shackles him. No matter how hard he tries to keep the tears from falling, when he’s leaning over Hajime, they crash down upon her. Oikawa cries. Hajime is keeping him from the ground, body between his and the floor.

Hajime has always been willing to die for her prince.

Hajime smiles up at him, and Oikawa takes aim at the sky. Oikawa lives without wings in a world filled with birds, but Hajime is the arrow that allows him to fight. He doesn’t need wings to win. He will shoot his enemies down and bring them to their knees. After all, everyone bows before a king.

Hajime has always been willing to die for Oikawa’s crown.

\--

Hajime never tells Oikawa why her bike was broken.

After all, Oikawa is fighting his own war. Hajime cannot let him fight hers. Hajime is not made of metal. She will not bend like the frame of her bike. Hajime is strong enough to take a couple hits without falling down. Hajime is strong enough to stand back up even when she does fall. Hajime, despite her wounds, is strong enough to take every attack without fighting back. Hajime will not allow their malice to become hers. Hajime will not allow their actions to dictate hers. Hajime will receive every hit, no matter how vicious, and send a chance ball back to her competition.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Japanese School Year - starts April
> 
> According to http://haikyuucrows.tumblr.com/post/54852475434  
> Inter High Prelims - start June  
> Spring Tournament Prelims - start September
> 
> \--  
> I really want to continue this. But I'm terrible at updating. So I may leave it as a stand alone piece. 
> 
> http://yamnus-writes.tumblr.com/


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